Tears in Heaven
by Maddie-san
Summary: An unthinkable loss shattered their world and the agony was impossible to bear. Hate found its way in their hearts, forcing them in different directions. Can the pain of loss bring them back together or will they stay apart forever? AH/AU.


**A/N:** I posted this a long time ago but then decided to take it down. I re-worked it a little and now I think I'm happy with it. This is supposed to be a dark story and some themes might not please everyone. I apologize for that. This is my first attempt at Delena.

**Tears in Heaven**

**1. Broken Headlights**

An eerie silence filled the room, only broken by the sound of the wooden door as it creaked open. Empty scotch bottles clanged together as they were being pushed against the beige wall while the door continued to open. A sigh echoed through the room but the sleeping occupant of the bedroom never heard it. Footsteps resonated, brown leather shoes hitting the hardwood floor loudly. As he walked, his feet pushed around more bottles and his discouragement hit an all time high when he stared at the sight in front of him.

Despair shone in his dark green eyes as he glared at his older brother; he was laying flat on his stomach, his hair sticking out in every direction and his _surely_ naked body was tangled with soft egg white sheets. A few wet stains covered the otherwise clean sheets and he assumed his brother's alcohol had messily tainted them during his drunken slumber.

"_Damon_," he hissed.

He obtained no response.

Dignity prevented him from rolling his eyes. Most mornings, he gave up but today he could not. "_Damon_."

There was a shifting in the bed and he was sure he had finally succeeded in waking up his brother. However, instead of a reply, he was hit in the face with a chocolate brown pillow. The hit flatted his brown hair, messing up his gel. He shook his head, his fingers _twitching_. Nope. _Not today. Not today._ Today, he would keep his cool.

"_Get up_."

"_Get out, _Stefan," Damon murmured into his pillow. "Next time I might not be so nice," he added as he lifted his left arm and dangled his half empty bottle of scotch in the air.

"Damon, you said you would go."

This time, his words arose a reaction out of his brother – although not a very good one. Damon's eyes snapped open and he lifted himself from his bed, throwing a glare in direction of his little brother. The sudden movement brought a wave of nausea; too much alcohol or too little? He was not sure anymore. Probably not enough.

"_I was drunk_."

"When aren't you drunk?" he inquired, aggravated. Scotch for breakfast, sometimes a little bit of rum for lunch and back to the classics for dinner.

"Good point," he said tilting his head in agreement.

Damon slugged his body into a sitting position, swinging his legs over the edge of his large bed. His back was curved and bent, his left arm hung by his side, the bottle of scotch still secured in his hold, while he ran his fingers through his hair; _greasy_. When was the last time he even took a shower? _Oh well_. Who did he have to impress? He brought the open bottle to his pink lips and swallowed a good gulp before putting it down.

He blinked once, then twice. Yet, no matter how many times he did it, Stefan still stood in front of him with that brooding look all over his face. _Nope_, it was not a dream; he was awake. Damn it. Who knew he was going to build such a tolerance to alcohol? He went to take another swing but Stefan angrily snatched the bottle from his hand.

"_Enough_."

Damon rose to his feet, his balance shifting and he tried to retrieve the bottle. Stefan was rapidly able to confirm his earliest suspicion; Damon was indeed _naked_ and felt no shame. Stefan raised his eyes, staring at the ceiling, uncomfortable. Damon hoped to use the distraction to win this silly fight with his brother but his reflexes were sluggish and Stefan had no difficulty keeping it away from him.

"Maybe if you stay sober long enough, you'll go."

"Yeah…," he said, pretending to ponder upon the issue at hand. "_No_."

"Damon?"

Both brothers turned their heads at the sound of the voice. Stefan's eyes narrowed when he noticed the familiar figure leaning against the bathroom's doorway. _Katherine_. Her long, wavy brown hair was wet, clinging to her shoulders and back while she was fully dressed into a low cut black dress and ridiculous high heels. She wore a smirk on her face as she walked over to Damon. She traced his abs with her fingers, her nails scraping the flesh and leaving a trail of redness behind.

"Thanks for last night," she whispered in his ears, her mouth hovering over his ear and her breath puffing warmth all over his skin.

"My pleasure," he said, leaning closer to her, his lips capturing hers into an open mouth kiss.

Their tongues tangled, her hand moving dangerously lower where she could feel his blood rushing. Her fingers hovered near the trail of hair that lead down a very happy place, while she arched her back, letting him run his own hand down her spine, sending tingles of excitement through her body. _She should almost stay._ He wanted her to stay. She was the perfect distraction.

After barely a moment, Stefan cleared his throat – in case they had forgotten about his presence. A sigh of exasperation passed Katherine's lips as she detached herself from Damon's pouting mouth.

"_Stefan_, long time no see," she said, sarcasm dripping from each word.

"Not long enough," he replied, dryly.

"Don't mind my brother, he's a little more… broody than usual," he said, raising an eyebrow. "He's not getting any," he finished in a whisper, loud enough for Stefan to hear.

Stefan scoffed but said nothing.

Katherine let a chuckle escape her before running her fingers through Damon's tangled hair. Every night he called her. Sometimes she answered. Although, she always waited until he was _very_ drunk. He was much more fun that way; all raw sex and no talk. "Well, I gotta go. You know where to find me," she told Damon before winking at him.

"That I _do_."

Stefan watched her walk past him, her shoulder bumping into his on purpose, until the sound of her high heels clicking against the floor was nothing more than a distant echo. Once he was certain she was gone, he re-focused his attention on his older brother who was still watching the doorway, probably still picturing her swinging hips.

"Katherine Pierce? Really?"

"What now?" Damon asked with a groan. On top of getting a lecture on _everything_ he did, he was now going to get one about _who_ he fucked?

"She looks like her."

His words appeared to startle Damon for a moment but he quickly recovered. "She doesn't," he spat out. "She looks nothing like her." He leaned back. "For starters _she_ has straight hair. Katherine's hair is wavy." He smirked. "See, _different_."

"You won't have to see her you know," Stefan said as he walked over to the edge of the bed. Since his brother made sure to avoid saying her name out loud, he would respect his wishes.

"I'm not going," Damon said as he bent down to grab his pair of blue boxers that was laying upon the floor. He slipped them on, much to Stefan's relief, and then turned to his brother with a smile on his face, his blue eyes shining. "Can I have my bottle back now?"

"N_o_."

Damon rolled his eyes before he let himself collapse in his nearby black leather recliner. He dove his hand beneath the cushion and pulled out a brand new bottle. He smirked as he opened it, taking a big gulp. He felt the liquid burn down his throat, slowly numbing him out. _That was the feeling he was looking for_. "Good thing I keep a back up," he said, shaking the bottle, the golden liquid sloshing around.

Defeated, Stefan threw the bottle he was holding onto the bed, and watched it spill. One more mess. Why did it matter? "Damon, you can't keep doing this."

"Or what? You'll kick me out?" he inquired, clearly amused. "I'm pretty sure our _dear_ father's will said _sons_ – as in, with an _s_. This house is just as much mine as it is yours." Another sip. He was going to need more than that.

"That's not what I meant and you know it."

"Then what did you mean, _little brother_?" His jaw was clenched, his fingers wrapped into a fist and the skin around his light blue eyes was bunched, his stare filled with pain. "Because all _I_ know is that I was here, enjoying my sleep and you stole away all of my fun."

"Alcohol is not _fun_, Damon."

"Ah. Ah. Ah," he said, wiggling his finger. "Don't condemn it before you've tried it." He brought the glass neck of the bottle to his lips, resting it there as he looked into Stefan's eyes; all he saw was pity. He hated pity. He slung a gulp down his throat.

Stefan's eyebrows gathered in; he was not making any progress and Damon was not getting any better. "You know, I gave you time."

"Because Caroline made you."

Stefan's eyes narrowed. "No, _I _gave you time because I couldn't even begin to understand what kind of hell you were going through but now? It's over. You can't stay like this, you can't keep doing this shit, Damon. You can't drink all day."

"Don't forget about all the amazing sex I'm getting."

Stefan pinched his lips together before shaking his head. He spent the last few months trying to help his brother move past this. He let him move back into the house, he made sure he did not do anything stupid. Caroline even brought him breakfast every morning and she _hated_ the guy. It did not matter what they did; all Damon wanted was alcohol so that he could drown his sorrows away. He was killing himself little by little and Stefan was tired of watching it happen.

"I'm serious, Damon. You're gonna kill yourself if you keep this up."

"So?"

The look in his eyes had changed. There was no twinkle in his blue eyes, no smirk tugging at his lips. Instead, there was a darkness hazing his lightly colored eyes, overshadowing who he once was. Pain, hollowness; it was all over his face. The agony was too much to bear, too much to cover up. He could not even be bothered to put up a mask. Who the fuck did Stefan think he was? Did he think Damon forgot it had been a year? How could he forget that? He would never, ever forget that.

He did not have a reply for his brother. He knew the wish of death had lingered in Damon's heart for a while now. The guilt was slowly eating away at him and he had not found a way to shut it off. "You have to go, you have to deal with this."

"I don't have to do shit."

"Damon –"

_Smash_.

Before Stefan could even finish his sentence, Damon was on his feet, the bottle of scotch smashed against the wall. Pieces of glass covered the floor while the liquid quickly formed a puddle all around Damon's feet. His hand was shaking, blood dripping down the side. It stung, it burned, as the alcohol slipped through the wounds but he did not care. _He was tired of caring and feeling_.

"_Don't Damon me_."

His skin was flush, his eyes opened so wide, the white was showing. His nostrils flared as his chest heaved with each breath he took. "I don't need you to fix me. I don't need you to pity me. I'm fine. I like my life." The words were spitting out of his mouth like venom.

His fucking brother needed to mind his own goddamn business. And because of him Damon had wasted a perfectly good bottle of scotch. _Fuck_. Plus his hand hurt like a bitch. Everyone needed to leave him the fuck alone; he did not need a babysitter and he sure as fuck did not ask for one. It was his problem and he was going to deal with it as he saw fit. If what he wanted was alcohol and women so be it.

"We don't all want what you have, Stephan. Married." He paused. "_Kids._"

"That's not what you wanted?"

"Nope," he said, popping the _p_. "I'm divorced and I'm happy."

Except he was not and Stefan could tell just by the _word_ he was avoiding to use. Damon was thick skinned, he could overcome a lot of things but even he could not bear this burden.

"I lost her too, Damon."

"_Don't_," he warned, a hint of shakiness in his voice. "Don't even compare."

"I'm not," he said, his voice suddenly quieter. He avoided that topic as much as possible. Obviously, the pains could not be compared but Stefan did feel a huge gap in his heart when he lost her. "I'm just saying you're not alone."

"Of course I'm not alone. You're always fucking here – babysitting me."

"Because I worry about you."

"Well, don't."

His skin had lost its glow, there were dark circles beneath this eyes and the weight loss was getting harder to ignore; his cheeks were a little sunken in and he did not have the same sturdy chest as before. He looked sick, he looked like death. Stefan heard the cries, the muffled tears at night but he never asked about it. He did not have the right to talk about it.

But, he had to stop Damon from his path of self-destruction.

"Damon, you have to go."

"_This discussion is over_. Leave."

He began walking past Stefan, heading towards the shower. Maybe a shower was what he needed. And then another bottle of scotch. Yes definitively another bottle of scotch.

Frustration rose inside of Stefan. He let many things slide but this was too important. He could not let him miss it. He knew his brother was convinced that if he ignored the problem long enough, it would go away but he was _wrong_. He needed this, he needed to mourn and then perhaps he would be able to move on. He would insist until he no longer could. His brother might not see it but if he missed this, he would regret it later on.

He had to use it; he had to use that word. "She's your _daughter_."

Damon stopped in his tracks, his body frozen in place. Stefan could not see his face but he could already guess he had a vicious look in his eyes. His neck was corded, his muscles tensed as his hands twitched. _Good thing they were empty_ or Stephan would have left the room with broken bones.

His eyes shone with glossiness but there were no tears. He no longer had any tears left to shed. "She's _dead,_" he finally said before resuming his walk, his body stiff.

Stefan stood there, deadpanned. Nothing could bring Damon back from the spiral of darkness he created for himself.

Day by day, they were losing him.

* * *

><p>"Why are you still here?"<p>

Elena snapped her head up at the sound of Elijah's voice. She forced a smile as she continued wiping down the counter. "I'm not done yet."

He shook his head while he marched in her direction. Gently, he covered her hand with his, stopping her movements. "Elena, _go_." It was faint but it was there; the pity, the underlying understanding.

She hated that he knew. She hated that nothing could be kept a secret in this town. She was not ashamed of what happened, she did not want her daughter's existence to be a memory, a secret but she also did not want to see pity in people's eyes. She considered leaving for a while but she never could. She could not leave _her_ behind and so she stayed despite all the pain.

Elena sighed, nodding in agreement. Once he seemed to believe her, he removed his hand from hers, taking away his warmth. "Vicki will take over for you. Do not concern yourself with this establishment. You have more important matters to attend."

"Thank you Elijah."

"Nonsense. There is no reason for you to thank me."

She offered him the best smile she could as she folded her white cloth. There were not many jobs she could do; all she had was high school. She never attended college, she did not have time, not with the pregnancy. Mystic Falls was a small town with limited opportunities. When the Mikaelson moved in, bringing in one of their restaurants, it was a fresh start.

At first, they did not know anything about her. They did not hire her out of pity. They hired her because she fit the job. Granted being a waitress was nothing fantastic but it was a job and she was grateful for it.

"And Elena?"

"Yes?"

"Sleep, will you?"

She could not remember the last time she slept properly. All the days were blurred together, a haze of a life was all she was left with and she hung by the memories. She worked, she even had lunch with friends sometimes. It was the only thing that gave her life a sense of normalcy; going through the motions. She did it, without fail, even if she did not leave the house. She had to – it was her lifeline.

Now, she had to go face to face with the harsh reality. If she could find the will to go through that door, the will to face the sunshine. She almost wished it rained. She was angry at the weather for being so beautiful on such a day. She wanted everyone to be miserable, she wanted them all to suffer. _This_ day would be with her for the rest of her life; it was the day _he_ took her daughter from her.

The thought of him burned a rage in her heart and it twisted her guts to the point where she felt sick. He never felt guilty about it. He never regretted it. He did not even care. Ever since she walked out that door, he never came for her, he never tried to apologize. She did not know what she saw in him. It had all been nothing more than an illusion. The day she fooled herself into thinking that man could love was her downfall.

She even married him. Good thing that was a mistake of the past.

Elena inhaled deeply before tossing her dirty cloth into the plastic container. She wiped her hands on her white and red apron and then untied it. Once it was folded, she hung it and headed towards the wooden door. Her breath was stuck in her throat, her lungs refusing to fill at full capacity.

"Elena?"

"Hey Bonnie."

Bonnie watched the emptiness in Elena's eyes, the ever growing sorrow that never faded away. On top of that, there was the slight tremble in her hand, the shaking of her bottom lip. "Elena? Are you sure you're okay to do this?"

"Yes, Bonnie, I'm sure."

Elena did not mean to snap, she knew her friend was trying to help but the torment, the rage swirling inside was not going away. A _year, _a whole year without her daughter in her life. She had not been very old but it had only taken a second, one moment of her in her arms, and Elena knew she would love her forever. She was not planned, it was not the perfect pregnancy but Miranda _was_ the love of her life. More than he was.

"Are you sure you don't want me to go with you?"

She nodded. "I need – I want to be alone with her." She wanted to be selfish. She would be the only one there. He certainly was not going to be there.

Bonnie did not like the thought of her standing by herself in that place but she would not force her presence. "I won't be far though, alright?"

Elena was holding it together, or at least, she faked that she was holding it together. During the last six months, she began working, going out for drinks, pretending to live a normal life. For her sake, Bonnie pretended that she believed the whole charade. She lost a child, a husband, went through a divorce… all of that in the span a year. A person could not be alright after going through tragedies after tragedies. They were no fools; they knew what grief could do to a person.

During the first few months, Caroline and Bonnie alternated taking watch. They never left her alone, not a single second. It was not hard; all she did was cry until she passed out and when she would wake up, the tears would begin flowing again. They laid beside her, they caressed her hair, they did their best to soothe her sorrows away. She ate – when they forced her. They never did find a reason to convince her to keep living but she never tried to kill herself so they did not push the issue. As long as she ate a little, they left her alone.

Then, the situation changed when Damon came to live with Stefan and Caroline. Bonnie found herself alone in taking care of Elena but she could not really blame her friend. Damon was a handful and Caroline could not leave her husband alone. She came whenever she could, talked to Elena, even when she barely obtained a response out of her.

Then one day, everything changed. Elena woke up that morning and for the first time in months, she got dressed. She had breakfast. She _spoke_. She slowly shifted into a mode and never got out of it. But it was not real. There were no emotions behind it. She wore a mask, pretending she was fine. Probably because she was tired of the pity looks. Whatever changed her that day, it made her into a new Elena.

"I won't see him, I'll be fine."

"What?" Bonnie inquired, clearly confused.

"He won't be there."

Bonnie had not seen Damon since Miranda's funeral and even then, it had been in passing. When Elena and Damon first began dating, she was not his biggest fan but – she did not hate him for the reasons Elena hated him. However, it was not her place to judge because she was not the one who lost a daughter.

Meanwhile, Elena stared at the window, aware of Bonnie's warm hand on her. She watched the cars passed by, the wind blow through the leaves but nothing arose a reaction out of her. Death was the only feeling nestled inside of her and it had never left her side since Miranda was cruelly taken from her. Pain, desperation and loneliness; that was the components of her life now.

Her life was not what it used to be.

She used to have a beautiful home, a husband and the most wonderful daughter in the whole word. Then she lost it all and now she was back in her childhood home living with her little brother. Jeremy had his life, his wife and most days she thought about getting a place of her own but he would not let her. She did not see him as often as the girls but it was mostly because he had a very demanding job. Anna did come check up on her very often though.

Not that she wished for that.

This was it, this was her life at twenty-two years old.

She went through too much grief, too much pain to ever be what she could have been. There was no going back; she was never getting married again, she would never bear a child again. The thought alone killed her inside. She gave life and she lost it and a part of herself went away with it. Days were longer, breathing was harder; everything had changed.

Some days, all she could do was replay the memory in her mind. Then, she would be filled with self-loathing and she would want to throw up. She saw him, the look in his eyes…her daughter's body. _No_. She wanted to stop these images from flashing through her mind but she never could. She also remembered the look everyone gave her when she began hating Damon.

They did not understand, how could they understand? They had not lost a child, they had not been through what she had lived. _It was his fault, she knew it_.

Most of all, she hated _him_.

She hated him for taking _her_ away. She hated him for breaking their family apart. She hated him for making her fall in love with him. She despised his marriage proposal, she hated the house he bought for her, she regretted every moment of their life together. All the stolen kisses, the soft touches, the sinful nights between the sheets.

He came to her when she needed someone the most. Now she wished she could take it all back.

She regretted the day she met him.

She wished she never had, then maybe her life would have turned out differently, maybe she would not be in so much pain.

But that was the life she left behind. This was a new life, a new one she was forced to live with a burden she had to carry.

A while ago she made a promise and she intended on keeping it.

She had to keep on living, no matter how much it killed her.

* * *

><p><em>The night sky was filled with stars while the nearly full moon was hiding behind a cloud. The cemetery was void of any living being except for one girl. Elena was leaning against her parents' tombstone, a bottle of beer in her hand. Five years. Five years ago, they had left her. Five years ago, that drunk driver had taken them away from her forever. <em>

_On most days she was fine. She was no longer a child; she was eighteen years old. She missed them, she wished they could have seen her graduate, been with her for prom but they missed all of that. She even hung on longer than she should have with her previous boyfriend; Matt Donavan. She stopped loving him a long time ago but he was the last boy her parents ever met. Letting him go had been difficult but two years ago she finally managed to do it._

_He cried. He was a good guy. He simply was not _the_ guy._

_Today, today was hard._

_Today she was alone to mark the anniversary. Jeremy had left for college. _Before her_. He had studied his ass off and managed to get in a few years early. She was proud of him, how could she not be? But now, she was alone in that house. Since Jeremy was gone and Elena was eighteen, her aunt Jenna took that opportunity to leave. She came in to take care of them after their parents past away, putting her own life on hold. _

_Now she was free, she could go back to school, live her life like a normal person._

_Elena could not blame her. _

_Although she did hate the feeling of that empty house._

_And instead, she chose to spend her evening with her parents. With alcohol because…why not? Alcohol was better than that stupid journal she used to carry around._

_She closed her eyes, letting the feeling of warmth spread through her. This was good, this was peaceful._

_Unfortunately for her, the silence did not stay quiet. Footsteps made themselves heard while a few branches began to crack. Her eyes snapped open and she began searching around. Before she could even make it to her feet, she found herself staring at a dark pair of jeans. She raised her glance until she was looking into the brightest blue eyes she had ever seen. _

_The stranger smirked at her and looked at her beer bottle. Immediately, he broke into a smile and she felt mesmerized. "Now why didn't I think of that?" he said with a chuckle. _

_Elena backed away into the tombstone, her eyes searching his face for a sign that he might be dangerous. She was after all stuck in a cemetery with barely any way out. The thoughts of danger had not crossed her mind when she had first come to drink her sorrows away. She gripped at the grey marble, her eyes darting around while his smirk never faded. He was beautiful, handsome; out of a magazine. Why was someone like him in Mystic Falls?_

_"What are you doing here?"_

_He tilted his head to the side. "Last time I checked, anyone can come to the cemetery."_

_Right. Stupid question. She was about to ask another when suddenly she saw his eyes were not on her anymore; no instead, he was looking at the tombstone beside her. It was fresh; it had been dug up and filled back up a few days ago. It was large, much larger than her parents and on top you could read; Giuseppe Salvatore. Right beneath it where the words, loving father. _

_She heard him scoff. _

_"Y-you're Stefan's brother."_

_His expression shifted and a twinkle appeared in his blue eyes. He scanned her from head to toe, his eyes traveling to her long dark locks all the way to her chocolate brown doe eyes. Although there was a hint of fear showing in her eyes, he could see the fire burning inside of her. How did a girl like him know his brother's name? There was no way Stefan could get a girl like that. _

_ "You know him?"_

_"He's dating my best friend." In fact, she had assisted the funerals with them. Along the years, Stefan had become a good friend, especially since he began dating Caroline. He mentioned an older brother who had left home a couple of years ago but she never thought she would meet him. Stefan barely talked to him and when he did, he did not have good things to say._

_"I'm sorry for her."_

_Elena scolded him with her eyes._

_He looked offended. "My brother is kind of the broody type. Doesn't like to have fun."_

_He took a step forward, walking over his father's grave, he stared at it, rage pulsing through him. For a moment, all he wanted to do was spit on it but he refrained himself. Instead, he let his fingertips traveled the edge of it. Then, he dropped to the ground, leaning against the tombstone much like she had done earlier. She imitated his new position and then, handed him the beer bottle. _

_"You might need it more than I do."_

_He looked into her eyes, captivating her with one look. There was something about his eyes; they were magnetic, pulling her in and she was unable to look away. He acted like an ass, he spoke like a jerk but – there was something she could not quite figure out about him. Then, as she was lost in his eyes, he leaned in, and for a moment, she held her breath. Was he going to kiss her? _What_!_

_But then, she felt the bottle slipping from a grip as he tugged it away from her hand._

_"Thank you," he said, his full lips barely moving as he whispered the words. _

_A shiver traveled down her spine and she nodded, unable to find her voice. There was something sizzling and deadly about the way he stared. She inhaled deeply, finally able to detach her eyes from him. He brought the bottle to his lips and drank half of it. _

_Any other days, he would have turned the charm on. Probably went home with her; she was drinking in a cemetery after all. But not today. Today… today he did not know what he wanted. His reason for working so hard, the rage that drove him…it no longer had a purpose. His father was dead and now, Damon could never prove him wrong._

_"I'm Elena."_

_He turned and looked at her with those eyes. Except there was no smirk, no witty remark. There was pain. She knew that look. She had the same look in her eyes when her parents died._

_"Damon."_

* * *

><p>The sun remained high in the sky and there was not a hint of cloud in the horizon. The trees were beautiful while flowers covered most graves. Elena was taking small steps as she walked through the graves, knowing the path by heart. Her hand was wrapped around a bouquet of pink carnations. She never thought she would come to Mystics Fall's cemetery for any other reason than to visit her parents.<p>

But she had to do it last year, to bury her daughter.

For a whole year, she avoided that place. She never looked at it, she tried not to think about it. Somewhere in there was a coffin way too small for a child gone way too soon. There was also an encryption that said _Miranda Salvatore, 2012-2013._ It was right there, between her parents' and Giuseppe.

The closer she got to it, the more she slowed down. She did not want to see it, she did not want to reach it. She knew it was real, she knew that for a year now, she had been unable to hold her daughter in her arms. And yet, seeing that grave again would bring it all back. She clutched her arms to her chest as she dared to raise her head for the first time.

From where she stood, she could see it.

Tears began to form in her eyes and she wondered if she would actually make it all the way there. Her whole body trembled, and it was getting harder and harder to remember the promise she made. The pain, the heart splitting agony that buzzed through her mind all day, the one she shut away; it was all coming back, rushing, pulsing in her blood. _How could she ignore it_?

Finally, it happened. Her feet reached the edge of the ground; she would not dare step on her. She was about to bend down, ready to deposit flowers on her daughter's grave when she noticed someone already had. _Pink carnations_. Everyone else would be bringing roses – because it was what you do. Except, she knew the day her daughter was born, pink carnations were blooming outside.

Only one other person knew that.

She felt sick to her stomach as she turned around frantically, searching for that pair of blue eyes that haunted all of her memories, all of her dreams. She could spot him anywhere. And yet, no matter how many times she turned and searched, all she saw in the distance was Bonnie, waiting for her by the car. _He was not here_. It was not him, it could not be him.

Elena found the courage to lower herself and put her own flowers down beside the bouquet that was already present. It was not until she felt something drop unto the ground that she realized she was crying. She touched a hand to her cheek, feeling the warm tears rolling down her face. Her eyes were locked on _his_ flowers and she could remember the event so clearly.

_"Damon, what did you do?"_

_"Elena! Listen to me."_

_"DAMON WHAT DID YOU DO?"_

Her heart began pounding, rage sinking into her heart, agony spilling in her blood and before she even realized what she was doing, she was snatching his flowers away and tossing them aside. They landed near his father's grave. Two bastards together; it was perfect. She wanted all trace of him to be gone. Except she could not do that. If she erased him, she erased her. And the worst thing she could ever do was forget about her daughter.

Why would he do this to her? The only good thing he ever did was stay away. Why did he take this from her as well?

He came.

He was not supposed to come.

He was not supposed to care.

He was a monster.


End file.
